


Black Cat

by yesterday09



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AUTHOR AU, Adrinette, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - No Akuma (Miraculous Ladybug), Alternate Universe - No Miraculous, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Writing & Publishing, Author Marinette, Awkwardness, Bad Parent Gabriel Agreste, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Clumsy Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Crushes, F/M, Hot Mess Adrien Agreste, Lonely Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Is a Mess, Meta, Model Adrien Agreste, Model Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Modeling, Original Character(s), Photo Shoots, Spies & Secret Agents, Story within a Story, Teen Crush, Teen Romance, Writer AU, Writer Marinette Dupain-Cheng, character writes a self insert, coffee shop cuteness, cop and criminal romance, marinette has a crush, model adrien, world within a world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22354981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yesterday09/pseuds/yesterday09
Summary: Marinette is the author of the wildly popular Black Cat book series, but she writes under a pseudonym.Adrien, lonely and overwhelmed by his modeling fame and mother's absence, finds solance in the books, and the main character of Noir, a teenage spy and vigilante working to overthrow the corrupt government of the fictional, futurisitic city of Mandé.Adrien starts to creep more and more into Marinette's writing as he creeps more and more into her heart.As Marinette starts to run up against her publishing deadline, and Gabriel puts more and more pressure on Adrien and his modeling career, will the duo be able to find solace in their shared connection?Non-heros AU.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 27
Kudos: 94





	1. Chapter 1

Marinette let out a loud sigh, allowing her forehead to flop dramatically onto her open notebook. She then quickly yelped and picked her head back up, wiping furiously at her face in the hope that her pen’s ink hadn’t stained her forehead. Writing with a fountain pen was one of the things that helped Marinette get into the writing zone, but it came with its drawbacks. Although Marinette never had to worry about her home’s spotty WiFi or her laptop dying on her mid-chapter, she wasn’t always great at waiting for things to dry, especially when she was on a writing tear. For being so detail-oriented and precise in her writing, Marinette’s real-life clumsiness had already covered her desk in ink, dyed the entirety of her right hand (and two fingers on her left) navy blue, stained more shirts than she felt comfortable counting, and, fatefully, resulted in the loss of a very _chic_ pair of white culottes. She suffered for her craft (well, in a sense). Right now was one of those moments when writing was driving her mad. Her only solace was the relative lack of ink-related damage to her surrounding environment. 

She huffed, allowing her breath to make her dark blue bangs dance around her face. 

_Noir, Noir, Noir, why are you being so difficult_?

Noir, the protagonist of her Black Spy series, was a character Marinette had a bit of a love-hate relationship with. A doting son turned teen spy and vigilante in the futuristic city of Mandé, he was both soft-hearted and unthinkingly cut-throat. It drove Marinette mad to write him.

 _Why can’t you cooperate for a little bit_?

Marinette had been trying for days to nail down Noir’s character arc for her upcoming book, _A Shadow Cast_. He was supposed to be performing a break-in and high-profile hack of the government’s main technology building, which had access to one of their most damning databases, in order to expose the corruption to the public. But he kept getting sidetracked by one of the law enforcement agents, Skylar Monohan. 

Marinette, so far, had prided herself on the acclaim the Black Spy series had garnered while keeping it from focusing on romance and love. Sure, Noir’s decision to turn against the government was made out of love, but not the saucy kind that had been plaguing Marinette’s daydreams lately in her real life. After the death of Noir’s mother under very suspicious circumstances and the subsequent suspicious explanation and cover-up from his father (a cabinet member in the national government), Noir had been driven to act outside the law. Despite raucous fan clamoring, Noir had remained unentangled and unattached romantically over the course of the first two Black Cat books.

But now, despite all other plans to the contrary for him, Marinette could not keep her protagonist from getting a bit flirty with Officer Monohan. She supposed she should have expected this eventually. She found herself thinking a bit more about romance and dating lately. Normally, though, it was easy to separate her outside, real-world life from the crazy hijinks of Mandé. After all, Marinette most definitely had _not_ based Noir off of her longtime classmate, the famous teen model Adrien Agreste, who she was crushing on _hard_ and who she was pretty sure didn’t even know her name.

(Except, of course, she had. And Marinette _maybe_ had patterned certain elements of Agent Monohan after herself. Just maybe).

“You’re better than this, Marinette,” she said to herself, even as she dipped her pen back into the inkwell.

* * *

_Noir found himself wandering down the cobblestone street and into Demelia’s, the best bakery in the 45th sector (and, in his opinion, the entire city of Mandé). His jacket was tastefully nondescript, and he moved calmly, fluidly; his movements belied his screaming internal dialogue._

_He took a seat in the back corner, tucked away in the spot that nobody could see from the door. His heart jumped when he saw a familiar navy-clad figure rush through the door, breathing quickly. Even the perfect Skylar Monohan, darling of the Mandé Enforcement Department, overslept. In her hurry, she was still composed, face placid despite her recent exertion, hair neatly braided, shoulders back._

_She made her way towards the queue, and Noir rose silently, moving like her shadow, falling in step behind her. She placed her order: iced mocha latte with two extra shots of espresso. He would have pegged her for a black coffee orderer. She was always no-nonsense. Good to have more confirmation that the Mandé law enforcement force’s darling was human after all._

_Noir didn’t say anything, not yet. She must have been severely caffeine-deprived not to notice him; she was a sharp one mostly, he’d give her that. Even if it made his life a living hell at times. He couldn’t understand how someone as perceptive as she was could buy into the government’s crap._

_She pulled out her card to pay for her drink, and Noir reached out his hand, gently pushing hers down. He felt her tense up._

_“I’ve got it,” he said to the cashier, leaning in so that Skylar could feel his breath on her ear. He could smell her vanilla shampoo. He put some cash down on the counter before Skylar could really react. She stared at him, pausing. Noir could feel her sky-blue eyes boring into him._

_“Thanks,_ babe _,” she finally said to him, dripping irony. She knew that his money most likely was stolen, or counterfeit, or otherwise tainted by whatever else he did to get it. But, improbably, she let him pay._

_They stood near each other, staring into each other’s eyes silently until the barista slid Skylar’s drink across the counter, straw poking out of the lid jauntily. Without breaking eye contact, Skylar picked up her drink and took a sip._

_Noir watched the way her lips wrapped around the straw; he swallowed deeply. He was the first one to look away._

_Officer Monohan moved briskly towards the back door. Noir let her get a short way ahead, but his long legs allowed him to easily catch up to her within a few strides._

_He whispered to her._

_“Hey.”_

_Not his most convincing line. It was okay; of the two, Monohan was the one more interested in repartee._

_But she still stopped, the two of them tucked away together, in the spot you couldn’t see from the door. They made eye contact again. He could see her breath quicken and knew she could hear his do the same._

_Noir had done so many dangerous things. He’d assassinated his father’s right hand man. He broke into the Parliament building and set up hidden cameras and bugs. He’d leaked the shit those dug up to the press._

_But, he mused to himself as he leaned in towards Skylar, this was probably right up there._

_(When he was trying to justify himself later to his exasperated second-in-command, Nico, he didn’t go into detail about the way she kissed him back. Or her very skilled use of tongue)._

* * *

  
  


_God damn it, Noir_.

Marinette cursed him even as she tore the pages out of her notebook, taking a few moments to blow on them before sliding them into an envelope to send to her editor. She sometimes felt like she was just a conduit for a story; she could only control so much. Somehow, the characters had taken on a life of their own in the three years she had been working on the series. 

Her intensifying crush on Adrien was not helping matters. Marinette swore her subconscious was trying to sabotage her. When she sent her first drafts off to her editor, it hadn’t seemed like so much of a problem.

But Marinette was a bit afraid of the impending reaction to the budding romance between the two characters. Sure, many people already shipped SkyNoir, as it was called, but Marinette was worried. Book critics, and even some of her most devoted fans, could be vicious beasts. That was part of the reason why she hid behind her pseudonym, part of the reason she wore a mask for interviews. And no, it was not just to be a drama queen, although if you asked Alya, Marinette did have the propensity to be one. The fans’ criticism could feel even harsher than that of the critics; they loved her deeply but were quick to judgement.

She was worried that she would lose the interest of the people who were committed to Noir’s revenge story. Marinette wanted Noir to have been further along in his break-in planning at this point in the story. God forbid the book end with him _still_ not having done it. But be it her own heart, or her defiant characters, but love was cropping up somehow.

Marinette smoothed a stamp onto her envelope. Maybe it was for the best that love would never crop up in her own boring life: it was hard enough to keep it straight in the fictional city of Mandé.

* * *

  
  
Adrien let _Chase_ , the first book of the Black Cat series, flop onto his chest, a yawn escaping his mouth. He fought to keep his eyelids from shutting, but squinting at his alarm clock with bleary eyes, he knew there was a reason his body was betraying him like this. _It was almost three in the morning, and he would have to get up in exactly three hours and forty-one minutes_. He was probably going to hate himself tomorrow during his first period chemistry class, but every additional page he had turned was worth it– despite it being his thirteenth read-through of the book.

He was exhausted, but knew that if he had tried to go to sleep even ten minutes before, he wouldn’t have been able to. Lately, all he could see when he closed his eyes was his mother’s casket being lowered into the cemetery plot, and his father’s cold gaze. He kept hearing his father’s sharp reproaches: “You’ll never amount to much, I don’t know why I bother.”.

It was always hard for him around the time of his mother’s birthday. His father removed himself even further from Adrien’s life, yet somehow his cold cruelty intensified.

In his darkest moments, Adrien had turned to the Black Cat series ever since it came out. He loved reading about Noir’s dramatic adventures, his cunning exploits and ingenuity, the sacrifices he made.

* * *

_Noir sighed internally as the giggly brunette next to him clung to his arm. She was teetering on her metallic platform heels as she tried to navigate the narrow spiral staircase, and she kept leaning towards Noir ear to whisper to him. Her speech was incoherent: he was pretty sure she had licked his earlobe twice now, too, and he could only hope that those had been accidental and that she wasn’t going to go in for a nibble in a moment._

_They reached the top of the stairs, where a burly guy stood near a door that would have been nondescript if there hadn’t been such a jacked man standing by it and if the staircase in such a rundown 28th sector building hadn’t been made of holosteel (yeah, they had tried to paint it and make it look like rusting old-age iron, but Noir was always one for details)._

_Noir pretended to be fixated on the girl beside him, even as she reached into her cleavage, giving him a double-eyed wink, and pulled out a little silver card. Jackpot._

_“You ready, baby?” he pretended to slur, pitching his voice lower and leaning in towards her._

_“Oh, yes,” she breathed, puffing sour air into his face._

_The man at the door looked at the silver card, the obviously drunk couple, and opened the door behind him, passing the plastic rectangle back to Noir’s companion._

_Almost right upon entering the club, Noir saw two of his father’s colleagues, slumped over a table with MedPatches stuck onto their forearms and their palms. They had some girls beside them, all leaning on each other, all of them with closed eyes and slow breathing._

_Noir surreptitiously tapped the side of his glasses, capturing the scene._

_The girl on Noir’s arm let out another giggle._

_“I loooove the Paradise Club!” she shouted over the deep bass._

_“Me too, baby. I’m going to grab us some drinks,” he simpered back. He left her at a table near the dance floor._

_Paradise. Where the politicians and elite came to party and get high off the very same drugs they claimed had been eradicated from Mandé and was punishable with death in the city. Hypocrisy at its finest._

_Noir took a few more pictures of the government’s best and brightest laid out catatonically, carefully skirting the edge of the dance floor, where he could see the private executive lounges._

_He saw a flash of silver and darted into the center of a writhing group of men and women, trying to appear calm. Drunk._

_Nico had probably been right that he shouldn't have gone into Paradise alone. But while Noir wasn't afraid to put himself in danger, he strived to never endanger his allies._

_“Well, father,” he said to himself. “Long time no see.”_

* * *

Adrien loved reading about the ways Noir escaped notice. The ways he could disguise himself, the ways he could act, the ways that he skulked around so that even his own father failed to recognize him.

Adrien often wondered what it would be like to slip down a street unnoticed. Or what is would be like to go to a party and not be surrounded by groupies. Or what it was like to get drunk, let loose on the dance floor, or do something dumb, something not PR-agency approved. Ever since he became one of the faces of the Agreste fashion house, his anonymity had vanished. He was a teenager, for Christ’s sake, but not to his father or the Parisian public. Not even his classmates were immune. He had Nino, thank god. 

Adrien finally set the book to the side, hearing the tick of the clock beside his bed. 

How could Adrien Agreste, bona fide celebrity, successful student, and rich beyond belief, ever be lonely?


	2. Chapter 2

“Bye, Papa!” Marinette called as she made her way out through the back door of the bakery, croissant in hand. A perk of being a baker’s daughter! On the other side of the kitchen, her father paused in kneading bread dough in order to give her a floury wave. 

She wound her way out of the alley and onto the sidewalk, heading south towards Collège Françoise Dupont, taking a big bite of her flaky pastry. An elderly neighbor came into her field of vision, and Marinette, cheeks bulging outward, could only nod awkwardly in greeting.

Marinette felt her phone being to vibrate in her pocket. She sighed, licking the last buttery residue of her croissant off of her fingers. SHe didn’t even bother looking at the name that came up on the screen. There were only two people it would realistically be, and her editor had already called her yesterday, hounding her on the upcoming deadline for a first draft.

“Alya, what’s up?” Marinette asked.

“Oh, hey, Marinette. So you know I go to school early on Monday morning to help out with the school newspaper… anyway, I ran into Miss Bustier, and you’ll never  _ believe _ what our next unit is! I can hardly contain myself- it’s going to be great, if maybe a little easy for me in some respects…”

Marinette felt an impending sense of dread.

“We’re studying the Black Cat series! I think we’re going to read most of  _ Chase _ , but according to Miss Bustier we might only do excerpts so that we can explore  _ Raze _ as well. And, like,  _ everyone _ knows the Black Cat series so I don’t think it will interfere with overall comprehension.”

“Oh, uh, that’s… so cool,” Marinette trailed off. Luckily, Alya was so hyped up about getting to read her  _ absolute favorite book series of all time _ and the fact that Miss Bustier was letting them explore  _ modern literature _ and  _ oh my god I can’t wait to make a post about this on Cat’s Corner  _ that she didn’t notice Marinette’s decided lack of reciprocated enthusiasm.

Marinette’s backpack felt heavier, although she was pretty sure it was because she was beginning to feel light-headed. In the three-ish years since she first got published, Marinette had always felt flattered by Alya’s obsession with her series, even as she ached because she couldn’t confide her author status to her BFF. Alya was the founder of the leading Black Cat fanblog and fanfiction site, Cat’s Corner, and although she was an incredible confidante in many other respects, the Black Cat series tended to weaken the curly-haired blogger’s resolve and moral compass.

Now, Marinette would not only be spending all her time on Black Cat outside of the classroom, but a significant chunk of time inside the classroom with it as well. She had always been able to pass herself off as a casual fan of the book, but never really engaged in conversations about it at school. WIth Miss Bustier’s new curriculum, there went that plan.

Her head was swirling as she neared the steps leading into the Collége. How was she going to keep her own intimate knowledge of the plot separate from that of the public? How was she going to speculate on the author’s motivation and motifs and themes know that half the time she was just writing on autopilot and  _ feeling _ the story rather than plotting and planning? How was she going to deal with classmates who didn’t like the book?

Marinette froze, hands on the door handle, staring at the dark oak door in front of her.

How was she going to talk and read about Noir with Adrien Agreste just a row away from her? What if  _ he _ hated the series?

* * *

The bell rang, so Adrien grabbed his notebooks and closed his locker, barely fighting down the yawn that was pushing at the back of his throat. Beside him, Nino did the same, although with decidedly less fatigue. Sometimes Adrien worried about his friend’s caffeine addiction, but it was moments like these that Adrien contemplated developing one himself. Not, of course, that he would really be able to stop off at a coffee shop before school like his classmates could. The general public tended to freak out when he made public appearances. Still, maybe he could ask Nino to pick him up something and he could pay him back.

In the hallway around the duo, there was excited whispering. Adrien sighed. He was used to even his classmates freaking out a little around him, especially after super notable campaigns for the Agreste brand, but there hadn’t been any new releases lately…

“Adrien, you’ll never  _ guess _ what Alya just told me,” Nino smirked. He and Alya texted a lot; Adrien wasn’t sure if they were dating or not but he knew Nino was into her.

“What?” Adrien mumbled, a bit distracted. Every time he blinked he was tempted to just keep his eyes shut. Thank goodness that he couldn’t fall asleep while walking. (Standing was another matter, as he had discovered after a sixteen hour shoot that went straight into a school day).

“So, you know how MIss Bustier usually does a contemporary literature unit in the spring…”

“Mhmmmm?” Adrien gave into his urge to yawn.

They reached the classroom and slid into their desks.

Nino leaned over, staring at Adrien intently.

“We’re gonna be reading Black Cat!” 

* * *

Adrien was glad he was in his seat, otherwise he might have fallen over. He still wasn’t sure if he had heard Nino correctly or if his hours spent last night reading had just scrambled his brain.

“I bet you’re hyped, right, Adrien?” Nino reiterated, nudging his blond friend to get him to wake up a little.

_ Ok. So it was real _ .

Adrien felt the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile, the first time in literal weeks that he hadn’t had to force the action.

“You know me, Nino. Black Cat fanboy #1,” he laughed to his friend. “And I’ve read  _ Chase _ so many times that hopefully I won’t need to be doing catch-up on the readings.”

“You’re such a slut for Officer Monohan, Adrien. We both know you’ll do all the readings even though you practically have the books memorized at this point,” Nino smiled at him knowingly.

“Hey, now, she’s super smart. Confident. Badass. A little evil,” Adrien defended himself.

The second bell rang, and Miss Bustier made her way to the front of the room. The class all turned themselves to face the front, uncharacteristically attentive and well-behaved. The room thrummed with excitement.

Everyone was so caught up in what their teacher was going to say that nobody noticed Marinette bury her head in her hands and practically start hyperventilating in her seat.

* * *

_ Oh my god. Oh my god. Adrien has read Black Cat. Adrien LOVES Black Cat. Adrien is a Black Cat fan. He is a s… slut for OFFICER MONOHAN. OH MY GOD. _

Marinette couldn’t hear a word Miss Bustier was saying, though by her classmates’ cheers she knew that their reading material had been confirmed. She felt like she might explode. She worked hard not to start twitching. God, she wished she could vent to Alya right now. 

Miss Bustier went down the aisles of the room, passing out fresh paperback copies of  _ Chase _ . Marinette tried to focus on the familiar cover of it, noting that if she ever needed it, she had five extra copies at home. The two limited release collector’s editions, a hardcover copy, the first paperback edition, and a signed version of the second paperback release (ok, she had been bored one day, but hey).

Miss Bustier cleared her throat primly.

“Now, I know most of you know the Black Cat series…”

There were emphatic nods all around the room.

“I just want to get a feel for how many of you have read  _ Chase _ . So raise your hand if you have,” the redheaded teacher continued.

The hands of every single student in the room went up. Marinette only just remembered to raise her own.

“Perfect!” chirped the teacher. “There’s a particular passage I wanted to analyze today, but it’s not at the very beginning, rather, it’s part way through. Rest assured we will go through most of the book chronologically, but I think to start off, this will be fun. Some of you might recognize it as Noir’s first brush with law enforcement competency. I’d like you all to turn to page 150.”

Marinette felt a pit in her stomach as she heard pages flutter all around her. 

* * *

_ Chase: Chapter 8 _

_ It was Noir’s second time planning a hack into a government member’s email account, and perhaps only the first time it was much of a challenge (after all, he had been able to access his father’s Bio-Id with much more ease). _

_ Noir knew where Dean Lorell, senior cabinet member, lived. A pretty sweet, swanky apartment in the 33rd sector, conveniently located near the government building and also the 28th sector. (Yeah, yeah, the 28th had a reputation of being rundown and slummy, but the number of times Noir had heard his dad telling a bodyguard/driver to take him there was disproportionately high for  _

_ Most importantly, Noir knew the layout. Sean Lorell, Member Lorell’s son and a distant acquaintance, had hosted a pretty sweet 18th birthday bash there and blasted pics all over social media. And based on some of the drunken party pics (with some images that only barely concealed people completely laid out, MedPatches stuck all over their bodies), Noir knew where Lorell kept his Bio-Id. The fireplace mantle was pretty obvious, but Noir supposed that not a lot of people would know. And basically no one, except himself, would do anything with that information except forget it. After all, Sean’s account was strictly followed by kids from the Young Politician’s Academy, where Noir was enrolled, a school full of kids who were almost entirely blindly  _

_ Still, Noir might occassionally do some dumb shit but he wasn’t stupid. The Lorell family kept odd hours, and plenty of staff. Thank god Sean had gone off to “study” (though he would probably party more than he’d go to class) in Jespa. That somewhat reduced the staffing at their home, but Noir would still need to case it. _

_ That’s what he had been doing. This was his fourth jaunt out near the Lorell’s place. So far he’d been doing well, being subtle, all that good “spy” shit. _

_ Maybe he’d gotten complacent, because he almost stopped in his tracks when he saw an officer. _

_ She had her navy blue hair done up in a sleek ponytail, and her Enforcement-issued dark glasses that all agents wore on duty hid her eyes and expression. _

_ Noir tried to slink nonchalantly down the sidewalk, but this officer was comprehensive in her scan of the area, stopping every single person walking by to check their credentials. _

_ The 33rd was a restricted sector, after all. _

_ Noir felt his brain kick into overdrive. His fake credentials would not hold up well to too much scrutiny, and this officer seemed on the ball, unlike a lot of the corrupt assholes that helped “protect” the city and would look the other way for a bribe of a handful of notes. _

_ Still, the officer beckoned him over, and Noir slowly walked towards her. He saw her nameplate. “Officer Monohan” _

_ “Credentials, please,” she motioned, and Noir slowly reached his hand towards his pocket, as if he was going to present his credential card. Instead, he fixed his hand around his small FlexHook. _

_ Fluidly, he whipped it out of his pocket, firing at the top of a nearby building and beginning to rappel up. _

_ He felt, rather than heard, the agent in front of him spring into action. _

_ She drew her fucking stun wave gun in less than 2 seconds! What the hell! If he hadn’t been wearing shock distribution armour, he would have been a goner. Even then, Noir began to writhe around even as he made it to the top of the building. He began to run off, legs shaking underneath him. _

_ He heard the officer’s shots collide with the building around him, and he heard her voice as she shouted into her communicator. _

_ “We’ve got a threat in the 33rd sector, officers report.” _

_ Even as Noir unzipped the side panels of his dark jacket and sprung off the other side of the building with his wingsuit, he cursed. He shimmied down the back alley tunnel that his buddy and right-hand man Nico had paid off three crime bosses to learn the location of, heart pounding as he heard the distinctive crunch of Enforcement tread tires roll above him. Noir sprinted as fast as he could until he reached the 21st sector. He zipped his jacket back up and pressed the button on the collar, turning off his face illusion. Fuck, he’d have to buy another. Waste of 10,000 notes. _

_ God, now the Enforcement cops would be all over the 33rd. He definitely couldn’t get Lorell’s Bio-Id any time soon. Fuck! He’d already put over 100 man hours and 30,000 notes into getting into that apartment. He’d need to procure some more goddamn notes soon, especially to replace the face illusion. Noir was pissed, and Nico would be too. _

_ Noir’s legs still trembled as he turned his jacket inside out, calmly walking to the 21st transport tube stop, blending in seamlessly with the crowd of people. _

_ He used his screenwatch to put a quick search in for ‘law enforcement agent monohan 33rd’. _

_ Skylar Monohan. So that was her name. There was already a headline about her actions in the 33rd. She had a lot of Enforcement Dispatch headlines, almost all of them successful criminal catches. Well, at least Noir had been one of a very select few that had evaded her. _

_ He wanted to smile but realized he was probably 50,000 notes in the hole and had to find a whole new Bio-Id to snag so that he could access the government email database. _

_ That Officer. Had. Really. Screwed. Him. Over. _

* * *

“In this scene, we see Noir’s first real setback, other than his father’s suspicion. His reaction is very telling… up until now, he hadn’t had to work too hard on subtlety, and he didn’t acknowledge the possibility of competent Enforcement,” continued Miss Bustier. 

Marinette stopped being able to hear her teacher. Her thoughts got too loud. This was trippy, hearing her own words spoken out loud, hearing other people interpret them, seek deeper meaning, see connections that even Marinette herself hadn’t noticed while writing. It made her head spin. Her first book had flowed and gelled and formed in her mind so easily. What a contrast to the way book 3 was fighting her!

“Miss Bustier, may I go to the bathroom?”

The redhead nodded at her, and Marinette fled. Alya was too engrossed in the discussion of the excerpt to notice her friend’s unusually hurried manner as she left the room. Alya was in her element: she had built a brand and following from analyzing the Black Cat series, after all!

Marinette made it into the toilets and closed the stall door, leaning her back against it as she tried to breathe in, out, in, out. There was still a whole unit of Black Cat ahead of her to face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien gets involved in a modeling contract related to Black Cat promotional attire, Marinette does some pining over Adrien, and some more writing as she approaches a deadline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adrien modelling Black-Cat inspired clothes was inspired by @BayBall :) it fit in well with a plot element I already had going on.

Adrien smiled into his sandwich.

“What?” asked Nino. “Did I say something weird?”

“No, no,” Adrien assured him. “Just in a good mood today.”

For once, it was actually true. Not even the thought of a “team meeting” afterschool with his father, Nathalie, and publicist could make his frown. Something about spending time with his favorite characters had… strengthened him? Ok, maybe that was too strong a word, but Adrien felt more himself than he had in a while.

Across the courtyard, Alya and Marinette sat leaning against the wall. Alya had her computer out and was chattering a mile a minute, hardly leaving Marinette room to get a word in edgewise. Not that Marinette would have had much to end. She was still just trying to keep her breathing calm and even.  _ Fake it ‘till you make it _ .

“...so, I’m obviously going to be blogging about our experience with the Black Cat series in the classroom, but do you think I should also do a feature with Miss Bustier about using the book as a teaching tool? Because, like, that might be be and official enough to get the attention of the author. Because if we’re analyzing it and the author is, like, totally alive, maybe  _ I could interview her _ ! Or, uh, the class could,” Alya added belatedly. “Wouldn’t that be awesome?”

Almost all of Marinette’s carefully cultivated chill vanished. The few interviews she had conducted already (as part of her contract with her publishing house) had made her feel so exposed: she had worn a mask and spent a lot of time nodding demurely. And those had been interviewer with veritable strangers (well, she had watched the Evening Times every night growing up, so her nerves during that conversation had been justified, but to have to speak to her entire class would be  _ so risky _ … Marinette almost stopped breathing just thinking about it).

“What?” asked Alya. “Did I say something weird?”

Marinette stared out at the courtyard. Nino was sitting next to Adrien, starting at him intently in much the same way that Alya was starting at her. Marinette wanted to laugh, but was afraid she would start hyperventilating.

“Oh, I see, staring at lover-boy,” Alya giggled. 

Shaken as she was, it was not in Marinette’s nature to take that comment lying down.

“Am not!” she retorted, cursing her addled brain for not allowing her to think of a snappier comeback.

“What, would you prefer I call it a ‘kind, nonsexual cross-courtyard gaze’ when you’re practically drooling over him?” Alya smiled. Marinette stared back at her, before quirking her lips up in a smirk.

“Depends. Would you like me to call whatever you have with Nino a ‘nice platonic friendship’ instead of… I don’t know, hooking up?” Marinette hit back.

Alya leaned back against the wall.

“Ok, fair. But Marinette, you seriously need to talk to that kid. You have it so bad for him,” she continued.

“I just… I’m not ready yet,” Marinette tried.

Alya rolled her eyes.

“Ok, maybe you’re not, but I’m seriously worried you’ll gonna die if you keep on yearning like this with no closure.”

Marinette’s phone buzzed with a text. She subtly checked it and paled a little. It was her editor:  _ Marinette deadline has been moved up to tomorrow, sorry will explain later x _

“Maybe, but I think I’ll die sooner if I don’t finish this history assignment,” pointed out Marinette, gesturing to her notebook, trying to keep her tone light

“Okay, okay, I get it,” said Alya, rolling her eyes and turning her attention back to her laptop.

Marinette hurriedly flipped open her writing notebook, beginning to scrawl. The history assignment (which, okay, she had done, she hated lying to Alya) was an essay anyway, so hopefully that would allay any of Alya’s suspicions about why Marinette was writing with such urgency.

The blue-haired girl ruffled her hair through her bangs before clicking her pen open. It was a ballpoint, but it would have to do.

* * *

  
  


_ “I can’t believe you, man,” sighed Nico. “You bought her a fucking coffee?” _

_ Noir scratched his head. _

_ “I can’t even believe myself, Nico. I just… it’s like something comes over me when I’m around her. And I think she feels it too,” Noir explained.  _

_ Nico paced in front of the desk. “Noir, as much as I hate to talk up any Enforcement agents… Monohan is the real deal. She’s skilled, Noir, probably one of their best. Think about the 33rd. Think about what happened in the 54th. Think about your first time trying to get into the Capitol. Man…” _

_ “I know, god, do I ever know, Nico,” snapped Noir. “I just...” _

_ He trailed off, and Nico stared at him expectantly. _

_ “She kissed me back, Nico. And I listened in to the law enforcement communicator frequency while I was waiting in the safehouse, and… she didn’t report that I was there.” _

_ Nico’s eyes opened wide. So the infallible, incorruptible Agent Skylar Monohan had broken an Enforcement rule. Nico tried to be calm in his answer. Giving Noir any more hope could be dangerous because Monohan was so unpredictable. _

_ “Dude, okay, I don’t know what’s up with her. I hope that she just feels the same way that you clearly do. But you gotta be careful. You’re playing with fire here and we’re running out of time before the elections. We gotta get the proof off the servers before then…” _

_ Noir sighed as Nico stopped talking. _

_ “You’re so right, and I know that. I’m gonna go review the plan before tonight, ‘kay?” _

_ Noir walked into the other room and closed the door.  _ Easy for Nico to say ‘be careful’ about romance when he had his own girl who just happened to be in the Resistance ranks _ , he thought bitterly, before rubbing his forehead.  _ Snap out of it, Noir _.  _ Tonight’s a big night. The last thing you need is to screw it up because of some pretty girl. Albeit, a very pretty, badass, intelligent girl.

_ Noir groaned. “I have it so bad for her,” he whispered to himself. _

* * *

  
  
A shrill bell could be heard by the people walking on the street nearby, and those who lived in the neighborhood quickened their walking pace. It was soon evident why to the unlucky few who hadn’t hastened their journey away from the school. Students spilled out of the doors of the Collѐge en masse, and the normally placid street devolved into chaos. Strategically picking his way through the throng of kids, Adrien made it to the crosswalk.

He discreetly slipped into the all-black car idling on the other side of the street, nodding cordially to his driver, Mr. Gorilla as the vehicle began to roll forward. He fought the urge to lean his head against the interior window, despite the tinted glass. 

He had grown to dread the meetings with his team. It was probably the way everyone deferred to his father, he mused. Nathalie was strict, and although sometimes Adrien felt like she cared, if Gabriel told her not to do something, it didn’t matter what Adrien wanted or needed. His publicist, Cherie, was sweeter, but she was completely cowed by the “ _ amazing  _ Monsieur Gabriel Agreste!”.

The car pulled into the Agreste mansion’s driveway and both Adrien and the driver got out. They silently entered, stopping off in the room on the left of the house.

Gabriel, Nathalie, and Cherie were already gathered around the coffee table that had a veritable mountain of papers stacked on top of it, whispering in low voices. They collectively glanced up when Adrien walked in.

“Hello, father,” Adrien greeted in a monotone. “Nathalie, Cherie.”

Gabriel gestured for Adrien to sit down, and he did, in a grey wingback chair opposite the trio.

“Hello, Adrien. How was your school day?” Gabriel enquired stiffly.

“It was productive. Pleasant,” acknowledged Adrien. He wished his father would have accepted his enthusiasm for French class, but if it didn’t involve fashion, business, or modeling, Gabriel didn’t bother to feign interest in Adrien’s doings.

“That’s good to hear,” nodded Gabriel. He cleared his throat, their token exchange of words clearly over.

Cherie spoke up next, after the pause dragged on just a bit too long.

“Well, Adrien, we’ve recently received an incredible offer on your behalf, we but wanted to let you have some input into the scope of the final project.”

Adrien snorted a little before quickly turning it into a cough, lest Gabriel lambast him for immature conduct. They really treated him like small child: only giving him the illusion of choice.

“The Gabriel brand PR team recently received an inquiry from a well-known publishing house regarding designing exclusive promotional merchandise and participating in an ad campaign for the Black Cat series, which, as you might know, is releasing its third book in a few months. They specifically requested you as a model, being a teenager who could fit the description of Noir,” Cherie explained.

“You know I don’t normally do such  _ plebeian _ designs, but given the popularity of Black Cat, as well as the relative artistic freedom this contract affords me, I decided to consider it,” noted Gabriel. Adrien fought back another snort. Defensive much, father?

“The questions we have for you Adrien is whether you want to do only the print campaign or both the print and digital campaigns,” Cherie asked with a smile. 

Adrien smiled sweetly back at her. Ah, the choice he was afforded! He stared deeply into his father’s eyes. Gabriel looked bored: he knew Adrien usually picked the least invasive, time consuming contracts. That was why the team had restricted his choices so much in the first place.

“I would like to do both campaigns, please,” Adrien informed her. Gabriel’s eyes widened.

“After all, as father so  _ rightly _ pointed out, Black Cat combined with exclusive designer attire will provide a lot of exposure and publicity. If I do both print and digital, I can build up both my runway and advertisement portfolios.”

Adrien was proud he mostly managed to conceal his annoyance as he praised his father.

Nathalie stopped writing in her planner and notebooks and spoke up, covering Gabriel’s shock.

“Alright, then. I have shoots booked for you within a few days.”

Adrien wanted to roll his eyes as the illusion of choice shattered further. He knew his father’s haute couture looks took weeks to go from concept to finished project.

“Thank you,” Adrien nodded. “May I please be excused to go complete my homework?” 

“You may,” confirmed Gabriel. 

Adrien stood up, and with a final nod, left the room, walking evenly. For once, he wanted to dance out of the room after the meeting. Sure, he hadn’t had a choice to do it or not, but Adrien was going to get to model as Noir! 

* * *

Marinette curled up on her bed, phone cradled between her neck and shoulder as she ruffled her bedspread with her fingers.

“Hello, Marinette,” greeted Elsie, her editor. “I’m sure you’re wondering about the sudden deadline change for the next chapter, and I hate to spring it upon you like that, especially with your schoolwork. But the publishing house doesn’t know of your student status, of course, so they just think you are… anyway, I digress. I have some exciting news for you that has to do with why the deadline was moved.”

“Mmm?” Marinette hummed noncommittally, brain still stuck on the deadline change.

“As you know, we were exploring various publicity options for  _ A Shadow Cast _ , and we didn’t want to get your hopes up with this one until it came true… but! Gabriel Agreste has agreed to design exclusive designs based off of Black Cat, and Adrien Agreste himself will be a model for our publicity campaign! I have it on good authority that there are bunch of Noir-inspired looks! Isn’t it wonderful?”

Marinette’s head shot straight up, phone falling out from where it had been wedged.

She could hear Elsie’s voice from the floor, coasting up from her tinny phone speaker, but Marinette couldn’t make out the words the woman was saying.

_ Oh my God. Adrien Agreste, as Noir. In custom-made Gabriel attire. Probably featuring leather. It would be beautiful. Oh. My. God. _

Snapping out of her reverie, Marinette picked up her phone, idly noting a new crack in the top right corner of her screen. She couldn’t even find it within herself to be annoyed, between the amazing news she just received and the fact that she had already cracked the bottom right corner of her screen a few weeks prior.

“Sorry, Elsie, you cut out there for a second. But that’s  _ so amazing _ !”

“I’m very pleased as well. Now, the reason for the deadline being moved is so that we can hopefully stage some advertisements that hint at plot elements of the new book. In order to do that, we need to hopefully nail down some of the plot.”

Marinette could almost hear Elsie’s sardonic smile. 

“Now get writing, girl!” Elsie finished.

Marinette groaned, but even the promise of an all-nighter hunched over her manuscript couldn’t really kill her joy.

* * *

  
  


_ Noir fought the urge to whistle as he scanned into the technology center, using the badge and uniform of a janitor. That would have been too clichéd. (Said janitor was currently knocked out, trussed up, and under Nico’s watchful supervision in the back of a transporter. Noir and his allies were already getting trope-y). _

_ The government had made the transition to robotic cleaning devices and services for the majority of their buildings; although hacking was risky, trusting humans had proved even riskier. However, the technology center was one of the last holdouts. Too many delicate instruments that robots might not be able to clean, and the risk of external wireless signalling and communication within the building was too great. _

_ Noir padded silently down the hall, stepping into the supply closet like they had observed janitors do every single time on the leaked surveillance footage. He dared check his watch. 23:45. So he had 15 minutes before the other janitor traditionally arrived for the night shift. Noir could work with 15 minutes. _

_ In the closer, Noir bent down to the air vent, gently tracing his MagCutter around the rectangular cover until it separated. He rolled one of Nico’s surveillance pods into the duct and gathered up a mop, duster, and spray bottle. _

_ Noir wiped and mopped his way down the hallway before coming to the second-to-last door. It was one of the main collections rooms, based on blueprints and inside intel from their mole (Noir still didn’t know the mole’s true identity, which he was supposed was kind of the point, but still). The room looked no different than any of the other instrument labs and offices. A sleek row of humming machines, a few antique-looing signal dishes, some monitors with screen savers bouncing around. Still, Noir bent down to ‘tie his shoe’, releasing more surveillance pods, as was the plan. He checked his watch. He still had five minutes to walk out of the place. _

_ Except one minute later, he heard footsteps coming down the hallway. For fuck’s sake. The other janitor had never been that early in his entire career. Noir tucked himself behind a monitor and cabinet, unstrapping the laser blaster from his forearm. _

_ The fucking footsteps came towards his room. Noir tensed and lined up his shot. He could not falter now. If he didn’t act, the whole fucking mission would be for nothing.  _

_ Noir saw the toes of boots in the doorway. _

_ He almost dropped his blaster when he heard a female voice whisper “Noir.” That was definitely not the tall, bearded man (Stephen Ratner) who normally worked the night shift. Strangely, that did not comfort Noir. _

_ “Noir. It’s me. Delta.” _

_ The mole. _

_ Wait, the mole was a girl? _

_ Noir dimly realized that he had been operating under the assumption that the mole was a male the whole time. Huh. _

_ “Listen dude, we gotta get the fuck out of here. I had to tip them off to save my ass. I gave them some false info but we gotta fucking move.” _

  
  
Marinette slumped over her manuscript, her arm and hand too heavy to write out the final lines of the chapter.  _ Sorry, Elsie _ , she thought before she slid off into sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien gears up for the Black Cat advertising campaign, the class does some reading, Marinette can't stop freaking out.

Adrien held himself rigidly as his father circled him with a measuring tape, pins poking out of the corners of hia mouth. It was disconcerting to see his father without his usual stern glare fixed upon his face, especially when it was just the two of them in the room and the fashion magnate did not need to keep up appearances.

At least fashion still kept his father happy, Adrien mused. To be fair, he had used to make his dad happy too. His mom had made his father happiest of all, maybe. 

Gabriel put a few pins in the unsewn left shoulder seam and then stepped back. When he stood up from his crouch, he drew himself up to his full height and regarded Adrien cooly, though not with his usual emotional detachment. For once, he was only looking critically at the clothes that Adrien modelled instead of the boy himself.

Gabriel almost smiled as he scanned Adrien’s ensemble from head to toe. Adrien’s physique, honed in the family’s private home gym with the best (and possibly most punishing) trainers that money could buy, certainly helped with displaying the design exactly as Gabriel had intended. The supple black leather hugged every ripple and muscle of Adrien’s body, no small thanks to Gabriel’s exacting attention to detail and prodigal skills in haute couture. The seams and detailing on the leg created a rippling effect. Adrien looked armored. Powerful. Very Noir.

Gabriel’s features settled back to normal and he cleared his throat.

“I think this will do,” he nodded. 

Adrien unfroze from his position and snuck a glance in the full-length mirror his father kept in the studio for use during custom fittings. His jaw dropped. Gabriel may have been a shitty role model and dad, but damn could he design.

“Wow,” Adrien whispered. “This is… nice.”

_ I look exactly how I pictured Noir would _ , is what he wanted to say. Because he had pictured himself as Noir, as he was wont to do with main characters. Noir had lent himself well to this reading practice of Adrien’s, though, what with his blonde hair, green eyes, and the character’s own tensions with his father. However, Adrien didn’t vocalize these thoughts. His father knew Adrien read, sure, and probably surmised that his son had given the Black Cat books a cursory read, or at least knew basic plot elements (the books had become something of pop culture phenoms, so they were something Adrien had to keep up on so he wouldn’t embarrass himself during publicity engagements and interviews). However, Adrien’s love for the Black Cat series was something he kept to himself; Gabriel discouraged almost any form of distraction from modelling and his career. It had been a hard sell to even be allowed to stay in school with his friends, especially in recent years as Adrien had gotten more and more bookings. Gabriel had suggested homeschooling. For once, Cherie and Nathalie had been on Adrien’s side instead of that of the fashion magnate. Moments like those were far and few between.

Gabriel gave Adrien a last once over. He held out the padded hanger to his son, his mask slipping back into place.

“Go change back. I have a video conference tonight but your dinner has been arranged for, at 6,” he informed Adrien tonelessly.

Adrien nodded. “Yes, father.”

The younger blond turned and strode out of the room, back towards his own. He allowed himself a few long moments in front of his walk-in closet’s full length mirror, twisting back and forth, seeing how the leather gleamed and shone. It really was peak Noir. Although the teen spy mostly did plainclothes and disguise work, Adrien loved his more dramatic suit. 

There was a knock out of the door, so Adrien peeled himself out of the skintight ensemble, barely having time to slip on sweats before Cherie came barging in, phone in hand. He extended the suit on a hanger.

“Oh! Adrien!” she blushed. 

“Sorry, Cherie. Moving a little slower today.”

She composed herself.

“No problem. I’ll bring this back to your father. Have a good evening.” 

She turned to leave. “Take care of yourself, Adrien.”

* * *

  
  


Marinette had accidentally-on-purpose not set an alarm, hoping to squeeze even a few hours of sleep in, but the stars did not seem to be aligning in her favor.

_ Brrring. Brrring. Brrring _ .

Marinette felt around on her nightstand, hand smacking on wood until her fingers finally curled around her phone. She checked who it was.

“Alya, what? Why are you calling me so early?”

“Marinette, first off, you’re normally up like, thirty minutes ago.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. 

“Well, clearly, I’m not today.”

“Marinette, this is not a drill. I repeat, not a drill.”

“Could it not have waited like two more hours, until I wake up?” sighed Marinette.

“Girl, all I’m saying is go on Instagram and check out you-know-who’s latest post.” Marinette just knew Alya was smirking, but she pried her bleary eyes open and swiped over to the photo app, moving to search Adrien’s account but realizing it was already her most recently viewed. Uncool of Instagram to expose her like that. 

“Holy shit!” she yelped.

Alya, still on the line, laughed uproariously. 

“I know, right?” giggled the curly-haired girl.

Marinette thought she might actually drool. Posted thirteen hours ago, sometime around dinner, was an absolutely  _ delicious _ photo of Adrien. Marinette’s brain was shortcircuiting. She couldn’t even read the caption because her eyes were fixed on the image of her blond classmate.

He was shirtless, his very defined six-pack on full display, and his eyes were sparkling, mouth ajar as if he was laughing or speaking. He held something black on a hanger, outstretched toward the camera so as to be halfway out of the frame.

“This has been the best week EVER for Black Cat news, I swear,” continued Alya.

“Huh?” asked Marinette. She knew they had started reading the books in class and all, something that Alya was still on cloud nine about (to be fair, Alya had only had about 24 hours since she learned about it, so Marinette could understand why her friend would be excited, even if she herself didn’t even understand all the Black Cat hyped). But Marinette was 100% sure that no press releases or any other new publicity had been released from her publisher.

“Marinette, did you retain any of the information from the post on Adrien’s account? Or were you too distracted by lover-boy?” Alya teased.

“I literally woke up to your phone call. My eyes are blurry and I don’t know if I’m physically capable of reading,” Marinette tried to play it off.

“Just read it,” demanded Alya.

Marinette looked back at the image, and then the caption.

_ Post-fitting vibes! Something real exciting is coming your way… I don’t want to let the ~black cat~ out of the bag ;) _

Her face paled.

“Oh my god,” she breathed. Elsie had mentioned a publicity campaign…

“I know!” chirped Alya. “I heard through the grapevine and some of my other fellow Black Cat bloggers that he might be one of the new faces of the Black Cat ads! And some people say they might release a movie or TV show, too.”

Well, a movie was news to Marinette, although she dimly remembered Elsie murmuring a few words about “possible ways to extend the universe and sustain fan interest”. What was also news was  _ Adrien freaking Agreste _ representing Noir in the publicity campaign for the third book! 

Despite her fatigue only moments earlier, Marinette didn’t think she could go back to sleep. Her heart was racing far too fast.

* * *

  
  


“Well, class, let’s all settle down,” tried Miss Bustier. The whispers and chatter did not stop; the room seemed to hum with hushed conversation. The redhead coughed pointedly, but her teenage students ignored the subtle hint of her annoyance.

“Class!” she rebuked. “What has gotten into you? Can we keep the discussion on topic, please?”

It took a voice made loud with anger to silence the students. Miss Bustier usually did not snap at them, after all.

“I would argue that the discussion is on topic, Miss Bustier,” simpered Chloé.

“How so?”

Miss Bustier paused, lifting a brow.

“Well, it’s just that Adrien is going to be a model for new Black Cat themed attire, of course! It’s all over Instagram!”

The whispers picked up anew, and the blond boy ducked his head into his hands, trying to shrink down in to his seat. Of course Cherie had posted the picture, and of course the photo couldn’t have flown under the radar. No, the Adri-fans had snapped it up, spurred on by the Black Cat fandom’s speculations on what the costume could mean for the upcoming book.

“Congratulations, Adrien. But, Miss Bourgeois, we are discussing the Black Cat  _ books _ and performing literary analysis, so I would ask of you all to focus on that, please,” intoned Miss Bustier.

“Now, if you’ll all join me on page 350, I’d like us to read the last chapter of  _ Chase _ . Any volunteers for reading out loud?”

Alya’s hand flew up.

“Take it away, Miss Césaire.”

* * *

  
  


_ It should have been a PR disaster. It was proof of a top government official, Noir’s father’s right hand man Ryan Connery, accepting bribes (in the form of time with escorts and prostitutes, even), explicitly flouting the laws in order to benefit his own party and a few large corporations. Also ordering the hit of someone, nonetheless. _

_ That’s what Noir and Nico and frankly, the whole Resistance (not that there were too many others, but still) had expected. Had desired. Had plotted for. _

_ Noir had still been living at home, trying to iron out a lease on a new apartment, when the first headline came out, written by a Mandean reporter a few years out of journalism school. Noir knew his father had done bad things, knew his father was a self-serving man, knew his father had a temper. He still couldn’t have anticipated the man’s reaction. _

_ The intrepid spy had been lying on his bed, scrolling through a blog that posted crime reports illegally pulled off the police network. The Enforcement agents had been blowing up all their channels about the break-in at Member David Newman’s place. They didn’t have hardly any leads. Noir smirked just thinking about it.  _

_ Member Newman was an up-and-coming official, young but hungry. Having grown up in Jespa, he had great influence with the Outer cities that churned out oil and mag-metal like it was going out of style. He was almost untouchable, especially due to the additional protection afforded by his high-profile relationship with Sean Lorell, Member Lorell’s son; they had met studying at one of the elite boarding schools in Mandé.  _

_ Noir’s mission to get into Newman’s apartment had been even more fruitful than he could have dreamed. He and Nico had spent an hour swearing non-stop after Monohan foiled his break-in of the Lorell place, and had also gotten a bit too drunk. When they woke up, so hungover they could barely stand to look at each other, it reminded Noir vividly of the aftermath of Sean Lorell’s 18th birthday party. And that reminded Noir of some of the crazy things that party guests were doing and doing to each other- like Lorell and Newman making out on a table while another schoolmate did lines off a stripper’s stomach on the floor underneath them. (Ok, Noir wasn’t proud of having to gone to that party, but to be fair he and Lorell were friends, and Noir hadn’t been suspicious of his father yet then, and he had unquestioningly obeyed his father when he was ordered to “network”). _

_ “Nico,” ground out Noir. “Fucking Newman. Let’s get Newman.” _

_ Nico groaned but he seemed to get it. _

_ “That fucking party,” Nico breathed. “Newman was bragging about his place in the 9th sector. A sweet place, with a  _ balcony _.” _

_ They had started planning for a few days out. _

_ Noir was distracted from his blog scanning when he heard the sound of shattering glass in the other room. He went to his door, which was slightly cracked open. His father, who was talking with someone heatedly on his communicator, seemed to have hurled a shot glass against the wall. His forehead vein bulged. _

_ “Fix up that motherfucking reporter. We have elections coming up and I need Ryan and his connections. Get André in there on that bitch.” _

_ The person on the other end of the phone was talking, an indistinct buzz. _

_ “I don’t care that she’s written some good pieces for us in the past. We need her eliminated. Make them think twice before they cross the party.” _

_ His father slammed down his communicator on the counter, hanging it up. _

_ Noir crept back onto his bed, breathing hard. _

_ The next day, there was an obit published for the reporter. And the buzz of the news was Ryan Connery’s charitable foundation and work advocating for the homeless. There was not a murmur of Connery’s abuse of underage prostitutes. Or the way he colluded with foreign government officials in order to secure more funding for the weapons business his nephew was the CEO of. _

_ The next day was when Noir realized that he, Nico, and the Resistance were treading in dangerous waters. His father wasn’t just corrupt. He was merciless.  _


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time for the third Black Cat book's promo photoshoot with Adrien has arrived! Marinette (as Ladybug) is invited by her editor Elsie. Both Adrien and Marinette are starstruck.

Even putting the remainder of her first draft (well, minus epilogue) in the mail couldn’t calm Marinette down. Although that could be a byproduct of the espresso shots she had downed so that she could even pretend to be functional after only two-odd hours of sleep.

Her jitters didn’t fade even as the caffeine wore off. The school day seemed designed to keep Marinette stressed. Not only was she fighting her sleep deprivation, but a whole French class with Miss Bustier discussing her own work did nothing for her nerves. Marinette never knew how to handle compliments, and hearing an actual university-educated adult (with a degree in writing and French) praise her writing felt different than constantly putting up with or dodging Alya’s fangirling. 

At lunch, Marinette had barely touched her ham and cheese sandwich at lunch; Alya looked at her questioningly. “My parents baked pain au chocolat this morning,” Marinette lied. Alya nodded, knowing Marinette’s extreme weakness for the sweet, flaky pastry. Marinette felt a pang of guilt for lying; her friend was just looking out for her. But it wasn’t as if she could really tell Alya the truth.  _ Okay, yeah, I’m the author of your favorite book series (sorry I never told you, BFF!) and my deadline is coming up, we’re reading the books in class, and did I mention ADRIEN AGRESTE was my basis for Noir and he sits so near me and he also will be modeling for the ad campaign? _

No, Marinette had to keep those racing thoughts to herself, so she tried to ignore the pit that formed in her stomach when she told a lie to Alya. 

* * *

After the final bell, Marinette hastily snatched up her backpack and said a quick goodbye to her peers. She made her way back towards the bakery on shaky legs, thoughts coming a mile a minute. She flopped onto her bed and her cellphone rang. Elsie again.

Marinette reached for the phone obligingly, praying that the deadline for the epilogue hadn’t been moved up further. That was the last thing her nerves could handle.

“Elsie?” Marinette asked.

“Ah, Marinette. I have a sort of last minute request of you…”

Marinette groaned. Why had she even thought about the deadline being moved and jinxed the situation?

Elsie seemed to read her mind and quickly moved to assuage the teen author’s fears.

“Don’t worry, Marinette, you still have time on the epilogue. I promise. No, I’m calling about something else. Something I think you may find a bit more entertaining.”

Marinette breathed out a sigh.

“I know I mentioned that Adrien Agreste would be the face of our publicity campaign, yes?”

“Yes, I recall that,” whispered Marinette. She more than “recalled” it; try as she might, she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“Well, the shoot is happening today, and the publishing house thought it might be nice to have you there. Maybe even update your author photo.”

“Oh, wow. Today?”

“I know it’s sudden, but Gabriel Agreste wanted to move fast in order to capitalize on this location only being available for a few more days before closing for restoration and renovation work.” 

“Oh, wow,” squeaked Marinette again. If Elsie was talking about the place she thought she was, Marinette thought she might die of excitement. In an arrondissement not too far away from the Dupain-Cheng bakery, there was an exquisite, regal mansion with a humongous lawn that was about to undergo conservation work. And Marinette had written a few scenes where Noir was creeping outside of the seat of government… which happened to be located in a stately manor home set on a large, grassy property. It was perfect.

“Um, when would this be?” Marinette asked after a long pause, finally having managed to collect herself.

“Let me look at the exact time.” Elsie paused and Marinette could hear her clicking through her inbox.

“…16:05. So, in around an hour,” Elsie replied. Marinette froze.

“I need to change  _ fast _ !” the navy-haired girl realized, before doubling her pace. Elsie could start to hear her puffing.

“See you then, at the entrance to the Lisson Manor,” the editor confirmed.

* * *

Adrien, per usual, had crossed the street and gotten into the car silently. Mr.Gorilla pulled away from the curb smoothly, as the duo made their way back towards the Agreste compound.

“Your father and Cherie have an important announcement for you,” grunted the driver in his accented French. Adrien sighed, ruffling his hand through his blond locks.

“Thank you,” he replied. He unlocked his phone reluctantly; indeed, there were quite a few texts waiting from him, from both Cherie and Nathalie. 

_ Today is the first day of the Black Cat shoot. It is at the Lission Manor, 16:05. Please perform any necessary hygiene tasks and wear appropriate clothing. _

Even Nathalie’s texts were a little old fashioned, although two years ago Adrien had persuaded her to make the switch to phone-based communication as opposed to emails.

_ Adrien- bc shoot today. Be prepared to make 2+ insta and snapchat story updates svp- or else I will. Ps just got off the phone with black cat publishing house and ladybug should be there :) _

Cherie tried to be nicer about it, but Adrien knew that in around an hour, no matter how tired or miserable he might be, it would be time for him to turn on a high-wattage smile and grin and bear it (plus put out the requisite number of sponsored content).

However, the blond’s jaw dropped when he reread the last line of Cherie’s text.

_ Ladybug should be there _ .

The author of the Black Cat series was famously reclusive, writing under a pen name (she didn’t even use a last name, for goodness sake), only granting a few choice interviews, and, most distinctively, wearing a mask at every public appearance. And Adrien would get to meet her up close and personal? Seriously cool. And nerve wracking. What if his modeling couldn’t do Noir justice and Ladybug was upset?

In a haze, Adrien jumped in the shower, standing under the scalding hot water for perhaps longer than was strictly necessary. He used a corner of his towel to wipe the steam off his mirror, lathering up some shaving cream in his hands. Even as he ran his razor over his face, around the contours of his chin and cheekbones, his thoughts were racing a mile a minute.

Due to his bathroom procrastination, though, Adrien had to race to throw on an outfit that Nathalie (and, more importantly, Gabriel Agreste) would approve of. Sure, Adrien supposed that he was representing Agreste Industries, but the young blond was baffled by his father’s particularity about what Adrien would wear for the five seconds it took him to walk between the car and whichever building was his destination. Still, he obliged, not looking to pick a fight today. Not when he’d get to meet freaking Ladybug of all people! He scrambled into some dark-wash jeans, a black v-neck, and a suede bomber jacket (an item from one of Gabriel’s past collections). He teamed it all with a crisp (but comfortable) pair of white sneakers. Thank goodness men’s streetwear was becoming an acceptable trend; Adrien had loathed what he dubbed the “boat shoe era” where he was plagued with blisters from continually donning new pairs of preppy boat shoes that he somehow never was able to break in.

Adrien descended to the parlor of his home, where Cherie sat, scrolling through some sort of social media feed on her phone. Upon his arrival, she stood.

“Your father and Nathalie are already there meeting with the rest of the creative team. Let’s join them.”

The two of them shuffled behind Mr. Gorilla to the car. 

As they rolled up to Lisson Manor, Adrien was very impressed that the location had been secured for this shoot. It was charmingly antiquated and grand, made of a lovely grey stone, with dark tendrils of ivy curling around strategically placed trellises on its sides. The verdant lawn and sculpted beds where spring flowers were just beginning to bloom made it seem like something out of a landscaping magazine. 

The car had barely come to a stop when Adrien was ushered out of it and all but shoved into hair and makeup. They primed his face and combed out his hair, scrunching in some gel, before he was shoved into the Noir suit and then prodded at with makeup brushes. Foundation was patted onto his face, along with all sorts of powders: contour, bronzer, blush… Adrien couldn’t really be sure because his eyes were closed. The makeup artists put some eyeshadow on him and filled in his light brows, though nothing flashy or pronounced. Adrien could only breathe a sigh of relief; the more avant-garde shoots, with complex makeup, were cumbersome to take off (Adrien decided that spirit gum was a horrid, horrid invention). 

Finally, Adrien was allowed to open his eyes, and when he did he gasped.

So did the masked person walking through the doorway.

* * *

  
When Marinette walked through the front doors of Lisson Manor, she almost immediately stopped moving. She hadn’t expected to see Adrien  _ immediately _ . She thought she would have a little more time to mentally prepare, and also to confide in Elsie that she kind of knew Adrien in her everyday life. 

It was all Marinette could do to keep breathing, sucking cool air in through her nose in an attempt to prevent herself from blushing. Nobody would blame her for doing so- not when Adrien made such an impressive sight (the skin-tight sexiness of the suit a very notable departure from his usual, cute-casual school clothes).

Adrien looked drop-dead gorgeous. The Noir suit, being an Agreste original, fit him like a glove, showing off bulging muscles and a very toned butt. Not that Marinette was looking at his butt. Okay, she was.

The hair and makeup team had really outdone themselves. His hair was slicked back and yet looked windswept, and the slight makeup on his face made him look bronze and chiseled. Marinette made eye contact with him, his eyes impossibly green.

A woman stepped next to Adrien, dressed smartly and professionally in a pencil skirt and kitten heels, her hair in a chic chignon. “Hello, Elsie, I’m Cherie, we spoke on the phone. And Ladybug, welcome.”

“Thank you for having us, and for being of so much help,” smiled Elsie. “We were very glad to get the cooperation of Agreste Industries.”

Adrien smiled at that. “It’s really our pleasure. I’m actually a huge fan.”

He glanced shyly at Ladybug, partly through his lashes, and Marinette thought she might faint.

Cherie nodded enthusiastically.

“We’re planning to get started in just a few minutes, once we get a final approval from hair and makeup. Can I get either of you anything in the meantime? A coffee? We can send a runner out.”

Marinette glanced at Elsie. She normally would never impose, but despite drinking straight espresso that morning, Marinette could feel herself flagging. And, she supposed, she was supposed to be a literary celebrity who was comfortable with such favors.

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I’d love an iced mocha latte with an extra double shot of espresso.” Okay, so Marinette had an espresso addiction, sue her.

“Sure thing! What about you Elsie?”

“Well, my usual order is slightly complicated because I have allergies. If I could get a piece of paper, I’ll just write it down?” asked the editor.

“Oh, yes, we have some over here…”

Cherie and Elsie disappeared around the corner. Marinette was alone with Adrien.

She tried to stay composed.

“It’s an honor,” came Adrien’s smooth baritone.

Marinette turned toward him, flustered. “Excuse me?”

“It’s an honor to meet you, Ladybug. I wasn’t lying about being a huge fan. I probably re-read your books every few weeks. They really resonate.”

God, where was Elsie? Marinette felt like she might pass out.

“I’m very glad to hear that,” she intoned. She fought the urge to cringe. Did she sound insincere? Too girlish?

Adrien smiled blindingly.

“You’re younger than I imagined.”

He paused for a second and then his face became panic-stricken.

“Not that that’s a bad thing! You don’t look old or anything in your picture in the back of the book. I just… your writing is so good and realistic that I expected you were older, you know?” he babbled.

* * *

_ Kill me now _ , thought Adrien. He finally meets the author of his favorite books ever and he goes and insults her? Oh, God. 

Ladybug tossed back her head, her navy-blue hair cascading further down her back as she began to laugh. She looked extremely beautiful when she laughed.

“I’m flattered,” she giggled.

Adrien felt himself turn red. He hoped she would just think it was the makeup that had been slathered and patted all over his face.

Cherie and Elsie came back, paper in hand, and Cherie quickly passed it off to the runner, murmuring instructions under her breath.

Nathalie entered the room.

“Hello everyone,” greeted the stern assistant. “Adrien, it’s time for final review.”

He nodded, giving a quick wave to everyone before following Nathalie into the makeup room. His father was standing in there, along with the makeup artist and hair stylist. Gabriel gestured for Adrien to walk up and down the room. He peered at Adrien intently as he did so, scrutinizing him. Adrien held his breath as he came to stand in front of his father again. A moment passed.

“This will do,” Gabriel announced. “Perhaps a touch more contour.”

The makeup artist nodded and sprung into action.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Gabriel,” remarked Nathalie.

The designer didn’t immediately react, but Adrien, staring into the mirror as his cheekbones were attacked by brushes, saw his father’s lips quirk up into a small smile.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok, get ready for some serious cuteness. In the name of advertising, of course.  
> When the model who is supposed to portray Officer Monohan in the shoot gets stuck in traffic, whatever shall the production team do? Well, Marinette (as Ladybug) is there... and this chapter will explain the rest :)
> 
> 6/2/20: thank you for everyone commenting on my typo, I can't believe I missed that! thank you thank you

Adrien adjusted his pose again as he perched on top of the stone wall, alternating between crouching poses and standing ones. It was extremely hot out and he was starting to get tired. He envied Ladybug, who was tucked away in the shade sipping on her iced mocha. 

Luckily, the photographer seemed to catch on to Adrien’s exhaustion. Vincent had worked for Agreste Industries and had worked with Adrien for what felt like forever, and the dark-haired man was well attuned to when Adrien needed a break. He let his camera hang around his neck.

“I think we’ll take a quick break right now. Adrien, go get re-powdered in hair and makeup,” he commanded. Adrien nodded and disappeared through the double French doors back inside.

Vincent turned to Marinette and Elsie.

“Ladybug, I know I communicated with your team about also updating your author biography photo today?”

Marinette nodded hesitantly.

“Perhaps we could try a few shots now while they get resituated inside?”

“Sure,” Marinette whispered.

Vincent directed her to the other side of the gardens, where there was plenty of sunshine as well as beautiful landscaping. He didn’t even bother to bring over his reflectors or extra lights: for this style of portrait, less was more.

He alternated between snapping shots and offering Marinette friendly advice and pose suggestions. This was the sight that Adrien came back out to.

Adrien couldn’t help but stare a little. Ladybug looked really lovely standing in the afternoon sunlight while smiling sweetly at Vincent. The way she giggled after she pulled a funny facial expression or odd pose was entrancing. She looked like more than simply an author. She was far shorter than Adrien, although from what he could see of her face that wasn’t covered by her eye mask, but she did seem to have a delicate, model-like facial structure.

Then it hit him: she reminded him of someone.

Of Officer Monohan, of course.

Vincent noticed that Adrien had returned and waved.

“Ah, Adrien! We’ll try some more promo shots over here. Then we’ll begin working on potential cover images. We, my friend, may get a little plot insight!”

A splitting grin took over Adrien’s face as he walked toward Vincent. A chance to get some insider scoop on the next book would be a dream come true! The photographer surreptitiously snapped a few candids. You never knew.

Marinette returned to the shady bench with Elsie, watching as Adrien continued to work.

Her editor nudged her, whispering into her ear, “Some model, huh? If I wasn’t thirty years older than him…” 

“Elsie!” squeaked Marinette. 

“It’s true,” shrugged the editor. “And don’t think I don’t see how you’re drooling over him!”

“Am not!” Marinette tried to deny. Elsie glanced at her.

“Okay, fine,” confessed Marinette. “But… he’s one of my classmates at school. It totally can’t be a thing. He has so many fangirls, the last thing he needs is one in his classroom with him!”

Elsie looked a little shocked, but shrugged. She didn’t seem convinced by Marinette’s argument. The two leaned back on the bench.

Nearby, Cherie was stalking back and forth on the phone.

“What do you mean, Amélie won’t be here for another two hours? We only have the light for another hour and a half max! This is…”

Whoever she was talking to on the phone was clearly trying to defend themselves. Cherie was having none of it.

“This is unacceptable. Rest assured I will be informing Nathalie Sancoeur of this matter so Agreste Industries can be apprised of your agency’s negligence.”

Cherie hung up her phone, letting it fall to her side dramatically. “The nerve!” she muttered.

The normally bubbly assistant returned inside.

“Nathalie, Gabriel, we have a problem. I booked Amélie Caron from Essence Modelling and she’s stuck on a broken-down Métro car and can’t be here for two hours.”

Nathalie turned icy. “We do not have access to this space tomorrow afternoon, demolition workers will be all over the property. Thank you for telling me, I will… speak to the head of Essence tomorrow.”

“What do we do in the meantime?” asked Cherie, almost immediately regretting it. There really wasn’t a good solution...\

Adrien, Vincent, Marinette, and Elsie came inside then.

“We’ve finished with the Noir solo shots, as well as Ladybug’s bio photo,” informed Vincent. “We’re ready to get shooting with…”

The photographer trailed off and looked around the room, noting the hair and makeup team standing idly by, nobody in their chair. “...Amélie?”

“She’s a no-show,” snipped Nathalie crisply. Vincent’s eyes grew wide.

Tension mounted in the room. They were on a tight timeline, with the lovely additional pressure of the fact that the venue was due to undergo restoration in the next few weeks and would no longer be available. Gabriel Agreste looked about to explode.

“If I may…” interjected Adrien. “Ladybug here does have dark blue hair just like Agent Monohan, which would save us the time of hair and makeup doing a wig…”

The Agreste Industries team nodded slowly. He was right. Ladybug, with the exception of her height, cut a model-like figure. She would do…

Marinette looked at Elsie, confused.

“Miss Ladybug, would you be willing to fill in as a model for Agent Monohan for some of the cover shots? It would certainly be a nice touch, the author herself making a cameo,” asked Gabriel Agreste. The silky tone of his voice belied the vibe he gave off: he was not a man to take no for an answer.

Marinette gulped. “O...of course.”

Elsie jumped in. “She will still want her eyes and upper face to be concealed. Part of her image, you know?”

Marinette looked at her editor gratefully.

“Of course. We have some aviators styled after Monohan’s that Ladybug could don, as well as a hat,” Nathalie smoothly added.

Nodding, Gabriel moved toward the door.

“Let’s go outside so that Ladybug can get changed and made up.”

Everyone, bar Marinette, Elsie, and the hair and makeup artists, filed out of the room dutifully, taking Gabriel’s implied order for what it was.

Marinette quickly slipped on the navy, flare-legged jumpsuit that was provided. It was designed to be cropped, almost like culottes, but on her, it came down to her ankles. Hopefully Gabriel Agreste wouldn’t be angry about his artistic vision being compromised.

Marinette felt more than registered someone slip a belt around her waist, cinching her in. She looked in the mirror and felt faint. Were those Swarovski crystals?

The makeup artist brushed a little powder onto Marinette’s face, also combing out her and filling in eyebrows. It was awkward with the mask on her face, but she was very glad that the professional did not demand that she remove it. The Agrestes were certainly good at hiring artists both talented and discrete, she noted. Through the mask, a bit of eyeshadow was tapped on her lids, and some mascara swiped onto her lashes.

After lightly curling the ends of her hair, the Enforcement hat (just like how Marinette had described it in her book!) was positioned on top of her head and then pinned on. The glasses were then placed in her hands.

Politely, the three people left in the room turned away from the mirror. Marinette quickly pulled off her eye mask and slipped on the glasses.

“I’m ready,” she announced quietly.

Elsie gave her an encouraging file as everyone filed out the door.

* * *

  
  


It was the second time that Adrien was speechless that day. He had already gotten to meet Ladybug (and potentially embarrass himself in front of her) but this was a different type of test. It wasn’t just testing if he could keep his inner fanboy in check enough to function- it was to see if he could combat his teenage hormones.

Ladybug looked beautiful in the belted jumpsuit, with the hint of makeup on her face (well, what was visible of it) taking her to a whole new level. It was all Adrien could do not to blush. 

“Very nice, Miss Ladybug, you’ll do,” nodded Gabriel. That was extremely high praise coming from the dour man. For Marinette’s part, she was simply glad that the fashion magnate hadn’t gotten snippy about where the jumpsuit hit on her legs.

Vincent smiled as well. 

“If you’ll follow me out to the patio, I’ll explain what we’re going for for the next segment of our shoot,” explained the Italian, fiddling with his camera as he began walking. After a brief pause, he seemed to remember himself, tacking on, “Although, Ladybug, you probably know more than what I do about this particular shoot!”

Marinette could only let out a small giggle. Did she ever… 

She didn’t know if she would be able to survive the next half-hour. After all, she and Elsie had recently discussed the book jacket layout and concept. Her editor had been quite titillated by the romance sizzling between Noir and Skylar Monohan, as had other higher-ups at the publishing house. Thus, said romance was set to take center stage during the shoot. Marinette had actually agreed with that decision and signed off on it. 

_That was before she knew that SHE was going to end up being the cover model alongside no one other than Adrien freaking Agreste, her crush since forever_.

Marinette took a deep breath as the group paused on the patio. Elsie, Gabriel, and Gabriel’s team all moved across the lawn so as to get out of the camera’s way. 

“So…” began Vincent. “Ladybug, do you wish to explain what we’re shooting or should I?”

Marinette blushed but nodded. It _was_ her story, after all. And what Elsie had told Vincent had most definitely been vague and possibly even insufficient- Black Cat was an extremely popular franchise, after all, and the publishing house did its best to keep insider information secret.

“Well, in book three, Noir and Agent Monohan end up sharing a tender moment in the street outside a coffee shop…”

“Yes! Aha! I knew it!,” burst out Adrien, beaming. He quickly turned red. “I am so sorry.”

Marinette’s blush deepened.

“Well, anyhow, the plan for the cover was to recreate that. Something a little different from the last covers.”

Vincent nodded. “Alright, well…”

Luckily, Vincent was an extremely talented photographer, both when it came to his actual artistry and his ability to give direction. Marinette was still on the verge of a panic attack from being so close to Adrien and also from knowing what was to come, but Vincent’s steady voice and clear directions afforded her a semblance of relaxation.

The Italian coaxed the two towards the edge of the patio near the house, so that they were leaning against the stone walls of the mansion. It did look as if they could be tucked away in an alley somewhere.

“Adrien, I want you to put your arm to one side of her, yes…”

Suddenly, Marinette was face-to-face with Adrien. Vincent stood to the side, capturing the way they stared at each other, somewhat wide-eyed, shutter clicking rapid-fire.

The way Adrien was propping himself up against the wall exuded power. Marinette stared into his green eyes, very glad that she had the mirrored sunglasses to guard her own expression somewhat. She was suddenly very conscious of the fact that she might have coffee breath. Oh God.

Vincent started giving directions again, but Marinette could hardly hear them- she was overwhelmed. Still, Adrien kept moving around, changing poses. He handled the whole situation like a pro, which Marinette supposed he was. She could only hope she wasn’t ruining the photos by being too awkward.

“Marinette! Two steps forward please,” coached the photographer.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Marinette complied, stumbling ever closer to Adrien’s muscular chest. She could smell his cologne- it was something spicy, maybe with a hint of cedarwood as well. Marinette normally hated scents but found that this one didn’t bother her or make her cough.

For the next two minutes, Marinette simply tried to navigate the fine line between totally checking out mentally, missing Vincent’s cues, and focusing too much on the fact that she was basically pressed up against her longtime crush. Who was wearing an extremely formfitting… catsuit? She slowly started to warm up to the work, able to even strike a few poses.

Her hard-won comfort basically vaporized at Vincent’s next comment.

“Adrien, take her chin in your hand.”

Suddenly, Marinette felt warm fingers on her face, and she was staring directly into Adrien’s vibrant green eyes. It felt like his gaze could cut through her mirrored glasses and she couldn’t suppress the slight flush that arose on her face. It was hard not to blush when her lips were mere centimeter’s from his.

“Good, good,” muttered Vincent, snapping away.

“Ladybug, Adrien, if you could…”

The navy-haired girl couldn’t really hear him. She was starting to get extremely overwhelmed.

Her brain didn’t register what was happening for the first few milliseconds. It very quickly caught up, though, when she felt warm lips pressed against her own, and she could feel Adrien’s hand caressing her cheek.

 _This is_ … _pretty much what I pictured Monohan and Noir would be like,_ Marinette mused, detached. Her cheeks glowed bright red, and she may have made a small squeal, but she wasn’t sure if that was just her internal dialogue. Adrien pulled away and Vincent kept taking photos but Marinette’s mind was mostly gone.


End file.
